


Life in Kou

by Shisai



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Character studies, Fooling Around, Judar's feelings towards everyone around him, M/M, emotional connecting, seme everyone?, sometimes judar will be on top, uke judar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shisai/pseuds/Shisai
Summary: "Everyone in the Kou Empire let me do whatever I want with them." A collection of one shots featuring Judar's life in Kou and all the things he got up to. Main pairing is JuHaku.





	1. Addict (ft. Kouen)

**Author's Note:**

> On the drive to a con, I had the idea to write some prompts. So...enjoy?

It isn’t until the post coital bliss sets in that Judar’s mouth runs more freely about rukh and the things he can see, the destiny that is woven around him. His bare back is against the hard chiseled chest of the first prince, strong arms draped over his waist, every once and a while tracing on bare skin, particularly when he’s interested in his words. The things that Kouen says during the act makes Judar’s skin crawl but only after he has time to consider them.

_My magi._

He _hates_ those words, the very idea that he belongs to Kouen but then he’s pulled into a heated kiss and those thoughts leave his mind, instead consumed by the _war_ , the _bloodshed_ that the prince embodies. He couldn’t lie; Kouen was a good fuck. They both had something to give.

Kouen wants to _know_ and not just some things but _everything_. If someone had to embody the Sacred Place, the first prince would jump on the chance. It’s a damn good thing he hasn’t run into that chibi magi because Judar knows he’d be kidnapped and locked up until every secret in the universe was laid bare. Still, Kouen has him and there’s something in him that purrs at the very idea. 

Judar wants to be _free._ He’s been kept in a cage all his life but his view of freedom is broken and shattered pieces of glass that break more and more with each day that he’s forced to spend near that bitch, Gyokouen. His freedom is with a king, a king that he gets to choose. He chose Kouen to be with him tonight, to take him over and over until he’s a contented mess, sore in all the best ways. It’s a brief escape and he knows that Kouen is still someone chosen by those old men but he can pretend.

They’re only ever addicted to the _idea_ of each other. 

When Kouen brushes his fingers against his neck, threatening to undo his hair, the magoi in the air stirs to life, making the older man laugh lowly, like he expected it. “Don’t think I can’t tear you apart right here,” Judar remarks, tilting his head back to rest it against Kouen’s shoulder, red eyes burning bright and even with his smudged makeup, he looks like something beautiful, something dangerous.

“But you won’t,” Kouen points out, relenting and moving his hands lower over bare, pale skin. 

Judar hums, like he’s considering it. “Probably not. You’re too much fun to get rid of.” They both know it’s only for show. Kouen would never let himself be so defenceless, Astaroth within reach and Judar would never do something as suicidal as murdering the first prince of the Kou Empire.

“More like too important.” The words make the black magi laugh, a hand reaching back to tangle into red hair, tugging on it. “You’d be bored without me."

Maybe there is some truth to that but then… “You’re not that high and mighty. I have plenty of people who are happy to entertain me.”

“Like that king of Sindria?” Judar can hear the sharp jealousy in his voice and it makes him grin, the feather light touch turning a bit more harsh. Lucky for Kouen, he likes it, even if the bruises on his waist are just visible above his pant line.

“Maybe…” His reply comes out in a sing-song tone and he laughs again as Kouen pushes him forward, almost off the bed. Any other taunts are caught in his throat as he feels the prince breach him again, a drawn out moan replacing them. Yeah…he’s fine with this.


	2. Dream Catcher (ft. Hakuryuu)

It isn’t the first time that Judar has woken up in a bed that isn’t his own. In fact, it’s more likely that he’ll wake up somewhere else. At this point, his room is primarily used for storage since all that crap from dungeons has to go somewhere. He knows he’s hoarding but he doesn’t really care. Anything to use as an excuse.

As he wakes, he can feel fingers brushing against his cheek and knows it must have been one of _those_ nights. It’s strange how he always runs to the same place, the same blissful silence every time. He peeked his eyes open just enough to see mismatched ones with an uncharacteristic softness. Immediately, he closes them and shifts into the touch, feigning sleep.

Ah…his mistake. Hakuryuu’s hand slips away and he’s struck with the thought that he’s never going to experience that touch again. Before he knows it, his fingers are wrapped around a warm wrist, crimson eyes dulled with a touch of desperation. No words are exchanged as Hakuryuu, half dressed, lets himself get pulled back down onto the bed.

Judar doesn’t know how long they lay there, his hand still holding Hakuryuu’s wrist until his grip finally loosens. The hand doesn’t leave but instead brushes against his own, infinitely gentle. “That bad?” The prince asks, voice soft and Judar wants to scream because he isn’t that fragile and he never will be.

But the thought that he doesn’t remember consumes him but he wants to so _badly_. He doesn’t know his nightmares, doesn’t know what makes him afraid. Each day his rukh is dyed more and more black, the white barely present anymore but he finds that he doesn’t mind. If anything, he likes it, wants to see more. He’d _love_ to see Hakuryuu’s pure black to match the purety of his hatred.

Hakuryuu’s touch breaks him out of his thoughts and it’s the first time those fingers have touched his cheek while he’s been conscious. Hakuryuu knows better than anyone that saying sorry isn’t going to help, it’ll only make it worse. Instead, he offers his silent support and if it were anyone else, Judar would take advantage of it. Instead, he lets his eyes fall closed as he drifts off to sleep more with every stroke.


	3. Disgust (ft. Gyokouen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been neglecting all writing but I saw a review from January that made me put up another chapter. If you have a request for someone you'd like me to do, feel free to suggest them :) This one probably isn't as good as the other ones but I hope you enjoy!

_Disgusting…_

_Disgusting!_

If there was one thing Judar hated more than anything, it was that vile woman touching him in any way, whether it was brushing against his arm or doing that creepy hair touching that makes him half consider cutting the whole thing off. 

Not that he ever would, his hair is his pride and he’d be damned if Gyokouen would be the reason he got rid of it.

His current situation involved being pampered, something he normally would be in to, while that _bitch_ lazily paced the bathhouse. Any time she caught Judar glancing up, annoyance veiled by his dark hair, that fake smile would appear, the one he knew wasn’t real when he was 11, let alone now at the age of 21. Still, Gyokouen is the reason he can do whatever he wants, within reason, a small voice that suspiciously sounds like her echoes in his mind.

Lately, she acts more clingy than usual and he guesses that’s because his rukh is finally that ‘pretty black’ that she likes. Not that he doesn’t like it either but does she have to hum and pet his hair and…ugh…touch his rukh. If anything makes him hide in the tress or sneak into any of his king candidates’ rooms, it’s her.

“You seem distracted, Judar,” her voice echoes ever so slightly in the bath as the servants run their fingers through his long hair, rubbing in oils and scents that will keep his hair soft and smelling good for the next few days. She walks over, her fingers brushing against the black rukh and Judar wants to scream at her that each and every one belongs to _him_ but he holds back as she approaches. 

The sound he makes it completely dismissive as he closes his eyes, leaning his head back a touch more as he feels fingers brush his bangs back, water magically being worked over his hair. Another touch and a shiver wracks his body, a near subconscious reaction as those long fingers touch his cheek, a seemingly gentle action but one he knows is tinged in dominance.

He peeks his eyes open, the burning inside now simmering to a soft ember as Gyokouen’s eyes, so much like her childrens’, gaze into his own. But there’s none of Hakuei’s silent determination, none of Hakuryuu’s hate that he swears isn’t there. No, these eyes belong to a predator and demand his submission each time he connects with them. There’s something so inherently _wrong_ in them that he’s almost afraid to ask the questions that linger on the tip of his tongue before he pushes them away. Knowing won’t change anything. It doesn’t matter why she killed her own children, only that she _did_ just like it doesn’t matter why she can see see and understand the rukh like he can, only that she _does._

Maybe that’s what scares him because he knows that no matter how much he tries to understand her, there’s going to be something else that escapes him.

Not that it matters.

She’s not the one that captures his interest, even if he finds it curious that the rukh in her body don’t quite belong there, like the limbs she moves belong to that of a puppet.

He can picture his kings’ behaving the same way and even if he’s only ever chosen one, the idea of them being used like that makes him sick. They belong to him, no one else. Not this woman with her not smiles, not those old men with their veiled grins and definitely not to this stupid thing they call fate. He’d love to drag them all into depravity, stain them with his colours and maybe _finally,_ he could find the true one hidden among them.

“It’s nothing,” he replies with a small shrug of his shoulders and the look Gyokouen gives him makes him want stab ice into her skin just so she could anything but composed for once, anything but in control.

It’s a look that screams victory, like she’s won some beautiful prize that she would kill to keep, protected in her darkened room and surrounded by people who practically worship her. “You should take today to rest. You have a big day tomorrow.”

Right…they’re sending him to Bal’baad… He’d heard the stupid king was on his way there. What a farce, having him make an appearance as a show of force but Judar’s always loved a good performance, especially when he gets to play the lead role. He knows he’s being used just as much as anyone but when he can do whatever he likes, he doesn’t mind forcing down the sickening feeling of her touch. 


	4. Game (ft. Kouha)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, Kouha is like a little shit and I love him for it XD He and Judar probably got along really well.

The first time he ever kisses Kouha, he’s pretty sure they’re both tipsy, if not drunk. They sneak away like children who’ve been caught doing something naughty, laughing and Judar has a brief thought that maybe this isn’t such a good idea since the youngest of Kouen’s siblings is probably protected but hey, if the first prince can fool around, Kouha can. The kid’s 16 now and Judar is only 19 so it’s not like it’s that crazy, not more crazy than guiding him through a life-threatening dungeon.

The prince’s nails digging into his back hard enough to leave marks are almost enough to convince him otherwise and they’re already halfway down the hall when Judar takes control, pushing Kouha against the wall to deepen their kiss. His hands go to his hair, throwing off that stupid hat and he can tell the shorter boy wants his choker off so he can mark him up even more.

Kouha has always loved unique things, broken things and even if no one says the later aloud, the former is most certainly true of their beloved magi. Judar secretly likes how Kouha will throw himself at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders that he definitely has to reach for while he slips his own around the prince’s waist, whispers shared between them like they’re partners in crime.

It wasn’t until this year that the touches became a bit more forceful, a bit more suggestive and if anything, Kouha has always known what he wanted and been charismatic enough to get it. As the prince bites down on his lip, a grin teasing the edges of his mouth, Judar thinks it’s a shame he’s so loyal to Kouen. Watching Kouha carve up people with one of the djinn Judar raised for him always does something for him. Everyone else holds back, using it as a last resort or being so cautious with their power or they just don’t go with him at all. He pushes the thought of the prince who always says no away, refusing to let _those_ thoughts plague his good time.

Kouha’s soft laugh in his ear, tinged with a bit of madness, brings him back to the present and he grins back, feeling a hand pulling at the base of his braid, urging him to escalate. “Judar-chan…” He purrs in his ear and the magi laughs, grip tightening in the boy’s hair to tilt his head up further, red eyes gleaming. 

“Watch it, little king,” he whispers back, as deadly as the magic thrumming beneath his veins. Kouha’s mouth shifts into a small pout but his eyes are still bright with a mixture of amusement and longing. They both know this is just a dance, the prince could never intimidate him and the magi would never accept him as his king. 

Voices down the hall interrupt their game and without another word, Judar manipulates the gravity around them, sweeping Kouha into his arms as though he were a feather that he could freely manipulate. They’re both laughing again as Judar heads for Kouha’s bedroom, knowing full well they’ll still be awake when the sun rises.


End file.
